La palude di Silvana Brunotti
La pioggia estenuante di questi giorni ci sta immergendo nell'elemento dello Scorpione, costellazione astrologica che infatti segna il periodo. E' l'acqua stagnante e mefitica su cui gravano misteriose le nebbie, dove la vita pullula insospettata e tenace, generandosi decomposition. The animals are those of the seabed, camouflage uniforms in which the sands lie hidden, waiting for prey. The plants are slimy algae that land, imprison, detain.
We try to exorcise it in many ways, this water. With the Halloween carnival for instance. The bright orange of pumpkins and jagged smiles drawn in the bark are the signs of cheerfulness coarse that it can not erase the tragic, as he would like. Indeed. And 'This is the joy of Don Rodrigo superstitious a few hours earlier to warn about the signs of the plague is laughing his company reciting the eulogy of his cousin, Count Attilio, torn away by the raging infection. An apotropaic act that sounds, the light of the events to follow, as a sinister prophecy.
in just over a month is Christmas. And soon the lights and Christmas decorations in the windows of the center will evoke the magical atmosphere of Advent. Always appear as soon as possible, anticipating the bright memory of a moment that can dispel the darkness. Maybe we can make it (we think) to avoid setting eyes on this pond cursed eye leaden old murderess. But no. It rains it rains it rains. All fall and break, the break-up prevails. Finally, we must recognize: the Scorpion has stung us, our soul is as it were intoxicated. Sloth, anxiety, sense of death are the background to the present. The water of Scorpio is
damn water? Traitor, covering the sand where it sinks. And 'the water in which the exhausted Ottilie of Goethe's Elective Affinities let drown the child entrusted to her. The same cold caresses the cheek where Ophelia's madness and drowning.
Yet this water can be crossed. We also like Atreyu, the hero of the never-ending story, we can travel in the "swamp of sadness" without being overcome, without losing hope sink (which is what happens to the beautiful horse Atreyu, pure energy, instinct, attachment to life without consciousness). And 'this water the macabre Milan in 1630: a huge whale corrupt from the body, in which the worker silk Renzo Tramaglino must necessarily stick, winning the disgust that the brand experience inspired him, if he wants to find his Lucia. If Lucy is not dead. As dead and defeat all around.
The hero can not deal with death. For it is clear that, if you simply try to chase them away, she will come back and sting all his days, poisoning. As an 'infection becomes chronic.
Why is there something worse than death, and the idea of \u200b\u200bdeath. The idea (death pictures, slides, advance with the mind), which gives the torment poisoning every happiness with a sense of insecurity and vanity of things. Only people who have been in the valley of Sheol, and he looked death in the face, Only those who have regained their lives snatched from the swamp can live as long as he has left. Others do not remains to survive. And a bit 'of divertissement. Less
man willing to live and think about the Scorpion and more is owned by his myth. It is located at acting it out, not understanding. Proof of this is water, beautiful, pure nature "Cancerian", or the vast, blue, fish, which reduces the man in a "scorpion". We always end up becoming what we strive for a bit 'unnatural to deny. A beautiful Persian legend tells of a servant to the market that meets the death, which sees it and makes a rude gesture, which he interprets as a threat. Runs far away, in Samarra, where he thinks he is safe. But in Samarra death awaits him. The gesture, in the morning it was not a threat, but a surprise: he knew he had to take it in Samarra: Why was the servant there? The death
flee, in short, riding as the servant of the story, just waiting for us in Samarra, and sure there is. And as we fled, there is cowardly traitors, and murderers. Scorpio.
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